


The Believer

by nameless_novelist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Tattooed Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_novelist/pseuds/nameless_novelist
Summary: Castiel believed in many things. He believed in his father. He believed in fate. These beliefs shaped him into the man he is now. Starting off as a freshman in a college, his unswerving certainty on his beliefs wavers as he befriends a certain Dean Winchester.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Believer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Graveyard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171008) by [chevrolangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevrolangels/pseuds/chevrolangels). 



> ** Disclaimer: This story is based on The Graveyard, rewritten in Castiel’s POV with a sprinkle of a few head-canons from me! I would say it’s up to you, my readers, to read this fic before reading the original or start with the awesome original story by chevrolangels first!

Castiel had always found solace in books – it was a close second to coming up with unique designs of his own and drawing them on his notebook. Although some people might look at him with disdain, the books he relishes the most are the ones where a protagonist simply adheres to their fate. Reason being that when they carry on with their life, just as fate had planned it to be, they would eventually have their happy ending in the end. In other books, where the protagonist is not destined for something, there are too many variables in the way of attaining the ending they want. Just like in real life, where a person is a protagonist in their own life. That's why most of the time those stories don't end with a happily ever after.

His belief in determinism was nothing of childish hopefulness nor naïve optimism. He had a secondhand experience of how fate can shape one's life: his father. His father was something akin to a living legend. He had built up his own empire from a small company that he had started. He would always say that business management was his natural talent, and he only became successful because he followed the natural order of things.

His father would always speak about his success story to none other than his own son, Castiel. "Listen to me," he would say. "Don't you think I'd know better?" To his questions, Castiel would nod his head in silent agreement. Now Castiel could see that his father just liked to play god, no, to be a god. The world was his stage and he was the lead actor in his own play. Anything he wanted, whether it be wealth, love, or fame, it was within his grasp to take. He was too young then, and his father's words meant the world to him - quite literally so.

For years, Castiel had thought that all the things he had to go through were because it was destined to be that way. In his elementary school years, his parents ended up filing a divorce after fighting on a daily basis. In his middle school years, he was bullied because he was a 'freak' with 'four-eyes' who 'stared weirdly' and –how this would be considered as an insult, he still had no idea – 'read books'. In his high school years, he would be called names whenever he walked down the hallway, ever since someone had found out he's gay. Not once had he dared to think that this was unfair. Everything was just meant to be. Because Castiel believed his father and hanged on tight to his words. Well, at least he had.

That is why he was more surprised than anyone else when he decided to rebel for the first time by running away from his home, his father, and fate itself. Castiel remembered that day so clearly, he could even draw it out if he wanted to. He had just turned eighteen then. He never made money by working in a job, not even a summer job, but he did save most of the money his parents have given him on his birthday and other special occasions, telling him he could do whatever he wants with it. Although they sounded like they wanted him to pick out a present for himself, he knew the real reason behind it – they just didn't want to bother spending time to pick out gifts. He didn't spend it and rather saved the money out of spite, but who knew it would come in handy one day? It won't be long until the money runs out, sure, but at least he is free. And this freedom he tasted for the first time had been simply exhilarating.

He knew he would eventually have to go back home, but he wasn't going to return to his old self. No, he felt like something in him had changed. That is why he went to a tattoo parlor – again, for the first time – because he wanted to mark down his act of rebellion in a permanent way. He wanted to leave a mark of his own on his path, no matter how small it may be, and what better than putting in on your skin for the world to see? He liked how poetic it sounded. He hoped that someday he could draw all over the perfect picture his parents already drew out for him.

When he finally came back home, his father seemed to be purposefully disregarding his change in behavior. Although Castiel wasn't reprimanded like he thought he would be, the only thing his father did was to draw the bottom line as to what Castiel was to do: Find a college. Find a job. Find a wife. He could do that. Those weren't much of a hassle to do anyways. He might have even laughed if he hadn't seen his father's face. It was a face you make when you are looking at an employee you'd very much fire on their next slip-up. Definitely not a face you make when you are looking at your only child.

Castiel didn't think that he would end up going to Kansas University. Not that he wanted to affront the university, but his father had insistently pushed him to go to universities with name values. You can change your nationality, but you can't change where you graduated, his father would say. Well, screw him. Castiel printed the list of universities without their names, only their location, offered majors, and some possible pros and cons about attending there.

Kansas University was not on the top of his list, but there was a specific reason why he wanted to go there instead of any other universities: because Gabriel would be there. Gabriel was not just his cousin, he was like a big brother he didn't want to have. He was supportive he claimed that Castiel had finally "grown a pair" to make his own choices. Maybe so – after all, he had chosen Philosophy and Art as his majors. The subjects his father degrades as unproductive and unprofitable. Castiel was more than pleased about his selection of his majors, except the fact that the first thought which popped up in his mind was how hard it would be to get a decent job when graduating had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before he applied for residence halls, Gabriel had called him again to check up on him.

"Are you sure about this, bucko?"

Gabriel's question was unexpected, and Castiel couldn't help but frown.

"Yes, Gabriel, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I am not saying I don't want you here, Cas. I don't want you to come here just because I suggested it. I want to make sure it's your choice."

His voice became softer, probably noticing Cas' weariness.

"I am sure about this. Although the fact that you would be in that college may have influenced my judgment."

Castiel's feeble attempt to lighten the mood had apparently worked, as Gabriel's voice perked up.

"I knew you liked me! I like you too, you know, as my little brother. I still don't understand you chose to study Philosophy. I bet you'd soon wonder why you picked it."

As it turned out, taking Philosophy as a major was one of the best things happening in Castiel's life. Sure, half of the students weren't even Philosophy major and yet, their majors required them to listen to the lecture to raise "ethical awareness" as members of society. Unfortunately, most of them chose to sleep or talk throughout the class and the active participants in discussions were mostly Castiel, Professor Henriksen, and only a handful of students who were attentive enough.

And then came a fateful day. It was just like any other lecture, up until the moment when someone came bursting through the doors, panting. Normally Professor Henriksen wouldn't bat an eye and continue on with his lectures, but the lecture was abruptly halted, as there was a commotion on the backside of the room.

Unable to put out his curiosity, Castiel, like any other student, turned his head around to see what was going on. Even though there was quite a distance between the boy and him, he was captivated by the boy's green eyes. His cheeks were flushed from running apparently and that brought out the greenness of his eyes even more.

The second thing he noticed was that he was grinning, even though he barged in in the middle of a lecture and had interrupted it from continuing. His lips were curved so beautifully that Castiel would have enjoyed kissing that lips until they were swollen. Castiel flushed slightly at the thought and was rather thankful when a calm and collected voice of his professor broke the silence. "What's your name, son?"

"My name is Dean Winchester." His voice had a hint of defiance and he was impudent enough to wink at the girls giggling and whispering about him.

"Have a seat."

"Yes, sir."

It was quite a disappointment when he didn't bother walking up to the front of the room but rather take a seat in the far back. Not a big one, but still disappointing nonetheless.

Seeing Dean Winchester in Philosophy was quickly becoming his favorite thing to do.

Every day Castiel prayed to some supernatural force above that someone on the backside would raise their hand and ask questions just so that he could turn around and pretend to listen to them while subtly casting a sideways glance to Dean. Just a fraction of a second, so that he won't be caught and yet he notices so many things about him.

Castiel knows how his lips quirk to one side when he's amused. How his long eyelashes would cast a gentle shadow over his face when he looked down, or how his face is perfectly symmetrical except for his nose which was ever so slightly crooked to the right.

Because he had paid so much attention Castiel could swear that he wasn't imagining Dean taking a seat closer and closer to the front, closer to him.

One day, Dean was sitting right behind him, and Castiel could feel the gaze solely focused on him. A need to pour out his nervousness somewhere else rose within him, so he began to draw some simple designs on his notebook that he could probably draw with his eyes closed - although he has yet to try that.

He felt Dean's gaze shifting from the back of his head to his notebook. Feeling a little courageous, he wrote out his name: James Castiel Novak. He didn't know what kind of reaction he hoped to get from Dean, but he got none. Castiel simply ended up feeling rather stupid writing out his whole name, just so that Dean would finally get to know his name.

It was only a week later when Dean called out to him.

"Hey."

A normal person would have jumped at the sudden voice calling them, but Castiel was rather great at being resilient. He only glanced up to the person in front of him to confirm that the person is indeed Dean Winchester and hastily tore his eyes off of him.

"Hello."

While putting his things back into the bag, Castiel replied nonchalantly. However, Dean didn't elaborate as to why he bothered talking to him. The silence between them was deafening, and Castiel briefly contemplated bolting out of the lecture hall until he realized Dean was fidgeting.

"So, um. I just—"

Dean fumbled, tripping over his words. It was quite endearing really, and Castiel chose to stare at Dean with bewildered amusement. 

"I'm in your philosophy class and I just wanted to say you got some really good arguments. I'm always in awe whenever you speak up in class and I'm pretty sure Professor Henriksen wants to hate you, but he can't 'cause you're too damn smart and I—"

Suddenly Dean closed his mouth and frowned slightly. Was Castiel supposed to cut him off and say something? Luckily he was saved from second-guessing his actions, as Dean's expression changed into something more sheepish.

"Sorry, man. I guess I kinda go geek sometimes."

Castiel was feeling very much relieved, as he shrugged at Dean's comment. He decided to offer a tentative smile.

"It's okay."

Having nothing else to say he decided to simply extend his hand toward Dean.

"My name's Castiel."

"Dean," he says, taking his hand. Castiel wasn't surprised that Dean would be someone to grip hands firmly, but he was when he noticed that his hands were callous. Dean let go of his hand after a short moment and Castiel found himself slightly missing it, which he shouldn't be feeling since it was the first time they held hands.

They ended up talking to each other all the way towards the Art and Design building. They banter back and forth about pre-determinism and nihilism and any other related topics that they could think of. It wasn't much of a surprise that Dean of all people would be an atheist, but Castiel was still pleased to learn something new about him. Dean was a confident person who would take charge of his life, rather than leaving it to fate's hand.

Unfortunately, this meant that their talk on that day and non-existent communication from then on were completely Dean's decision. That talk was just a one-time thing. A simple act out of curiosity. Perhaps Castiel should be thankful that Dean was nice enough to wave and smile at him whenever they meet each other in the hallway, which Castiel returned shyly. Castiel would have approached Dean because he rather enjoyed their talk, but whenever Castiel did so much as to look at Dean, Dean would avoid his gaze. Even though Dean had been staring at Castiel throughout the lesson.

It was confusing at the least and hurtful at the most, so Castiel was thrilled to catch Dean by surprise when he was waiting for Gabriel in his dormitory. Well, it was unexpected for Castiel as well, since Gabriel hadn't spoken much of his roommate. Dean shifted his eyes like he is unsure how to react until he stuttered out, "Cas?"

Cas. Castiel always thought that it was disdainful to shorten the name of others just for the sake of their laziness to invest time in actually memorizing them. That's why Castiel would not allow people to call him by a nickname, although he hadn't had a chance to say so since he never had a nickname. So he should be telling Dean that he did not appreciate the nickname, but honestly, he felt his heart flutter the way his shortened name slip out from Dean. He found it quite endearing and he simply changed his mind on nicknames.

After that incident, it became a regular thing for Castiel to spend time with Gabriel and Dean on Fridays in their dormitory. Dean seemed to enjoy his company and him Dean's so they have become so close to each other at an alarming rate. In addition to their "Friday ritual", as Dean liked to call it, they would sit next to each other in Philosophy class and sometimes have lunch together when their timetables matched. It was fascinating how they were in fact nothing like each other and yet they managed to fit into each other's lives quite well. Castiel sometimes wondered why he hadn't acted sooner.

When he expressed that thought to Gabriel, he only rolled his eyes, when he realized Dean was also the one Castiel had talked about a few weeks back. Gabriel claimed that Castiel was smitten with Dean. Although Gabriel was an attentive listener and was great at giving advice, Castiel wasn't convinced about Gabriel's claim. If he did love Dean, when did it start? Was it love at first sight? Castiel didn't have any answers for it so he had put it aside in the back of his brain.

Months went by, and it was already December. It was one Thursday afternoon, and Gabriel had announced to Dean and Castiel that he would be moving out next year. Dean tried to brush Gabriel off by saying he didn't mind it at all, but Castiel could sense that he was crestfallen by the turn of the event. Out of pure impulse, Castiel offered Dean to find an apartment together. It was rather bold of him, and he was just as much as surprised as Dean.

Castiel had simply thought that since they have fallen into a comfortable routine of spending time after school together anyway, they could share an apartment together. He didn't want to push Dean into this though, so Castiel just watches Dean regain himself after choking on his beer. Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth closed. And when he opened it again, he blurted out a list of why he wouldn't be a good roommate. After Castiel pointed out that they can work it out together, a bright smile crept up to Dean's face as he agreed.

Another few months had flown, and it was already the end of their freshman year. Dean and Castiel were sitting on a couch together, as Dean mused, "Can you believe our first year of college is actually over?"

"I don't think my belief matters because it is over."

Dean frowned at him and shook his head disapprovingly, but Castiel could tell he was only joking.

"You read a lot, Cas, but you sure don't appreciate small joys like this."

He did, in fact. It is just that he would be expected to find a job after three years. Or his father would probably pull some string to get him to work in his company and Castiel would very much like to pass up that offer.

Dean snapped a finger in front of him to bring him back into reality. He frowned again, and this time he was serious.

"Cas, is everything okay with you?"

"Yes, I'm sorry if I worried you."

"It's fine. What were you thinking about anyway?" His face must have been guarded since Dean quickly added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He did. Castiel was never the one keep something a secret from a friend, and Dean was one of his most trusted friends.

"I was wondering if I am on the right path," Castiel admitted quietly.

"Ah, you and your determinism. Honestly, I'd usually tell people that they shouldn't worry because they are the ones making choices, and making a few wrong choices isn't the end of the world. But with you... I guess it must be different."

This was one of many characteristics he liked about Dean. He was considerate and always tried to be in another person's shoes before speaking.

"Well, if there was such thing as fate," Dean continued, "it should show people clearly their path, right? Because if it isn't clear to them, then how are they gonna know in the first place?"

Dean took in a deep breath before speaking again.

"The thing is I'd like to think that there is something else than fate. A free will. Like you and me, for example. I'd prefer that you are friend with me because I am awesome and fuckin' adorable, not because fate told you to do so."

That made Castiel rethink their friendship. Dean coming up to Castiel wasn't fate's doing. Them becoming friends was not predetermined. Castiel offering to find an apartment together was voluntary. It was their choice. It was his choice.

Words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't express to Dean how grateful he felt then. He was annoyed that his voice wasn't working, but a moment later, he realized it was a blessing in disguise. When he looked up to meet Dean's sincere gaze, Castiel was aware of how he hadn't just fallen in love but, as Gabriel had always insisted, was already in love.

During the summer vacation, Dean had most of the time been on his mind, but Castiel was careful not to let himself think too much about him. He knew for certain that Dean wouldn't feel the same way. Although that meant his love would be unrequited, he could still remain as Dean's closest friend. That was, only if Castiel could continue to keep a straight face in front of Dean.

As the sophomore year rolled in, Dean came back from his home back to their apartment and they were quite comfortable around each other - even chores were divided evenly amongst the two of them based on their preferences. It was a nice feeling to spend most of his time with someone he likes being around.

Two weeks later, Dean suggested throwing a housewarming party. Castiel himself was not a party person, but he caved when Dean brought it up. His eyes sparkled with excitement and Hell be damned if he was about to put that fire out.

That night their home was bustling with people. Just as Castiel thought they had probably reached the maximal capacity, Ash walked in through the door.

"King of the party is here! You may begin the party!"

Dean rolled his eyes at Ash's holler and smirked, "Ash, we were having a great party going on until you showed up."

"Don't be so bitchy, Winchester. I come bearing gifts."

"What is it?"

Intrigued, Dean reached his hand and accepted the bottle Ash was holding. He immediately scowled when he read the label.

"Skinny Girl Margarita Mix? Are you for real?"

"Oh, I am as real as it gets, baby."

Ash winked at him for a good measure and Dean's mouth was twitching in amusement.

"You got lime and salt?"

Jo quipped in, never the one to turn down a drink.

"I have them alright, but no, I ain't gonna prepare them."

"Well, someone's salty!"

Dean sent her a menacing glare before he went into the kitchen. After a few minutes, he emerged with two glass of margarita and people grinned, as they all reached out.

"Ah, ah. Hands off, one's for me and other one's for Cas."

They protested, but he brushed all of them off. Castiel was beyond pleased he felt like gloating, but he quickly managed to keep his feeling under control.

When Dean took a seat on the couch, Anna immediately saw her chance and took a seat right next to Dean, as she placed her hand on his thighs suggestively.

"So Dean, it's the beginning of a new school year and you don't have a date, I don't have one either. What do you say we go out next weekend? We did have a great time."

"Or I could show you a better time, Dean."

Dean laughed off Michael's suggestion, but Castiel fought his grimace because he knew that look on Michael's face when he was looking at Dean. It's how Castiel sometimes looked at Dean when Dean wasn't looking back at him. It was a face of pure want.

"Shove it, Michael!" Anna scowled.

"What if I don't want to?"

"Oh, you will because-"

"Guys, guys! Calm down, will you?" Dean stood up and placed himself between the two of them. "I am flattered really, but I am not interested in seeing anyone right now." Dean briefly looked at Castiel and hold his gaze before continuing. "Besides, it's like a honeymoon phase for me and Cas – we just moved into this apartment."

That night Castiel prayed again to whatever supernatural being above that he had the strength not to go weak in the knee every time Dean makes a joke like that.

A month has passed since then. One day, he had come out of the shower and felt self-conscious when he saw Dean staring at his half-naked body. Dean was not a morning person, so it was rare for him to be awake at this time. Not knowing he'd be awake, Castiel had been humming to himself and had only a towel wrapped around his waist. He knew he wouldn't look too bad since he always goes for a run every day, but he realized this was the first time Dean had seen his tattoos.

He hadn't thought about talking about his tattoos – he wasn't exactly planning on keeping them a secret, but he didn't think that it would be appropriate to just take his shirt off and saunter toward Dean and explain them to him. He wasn't, however, against the idea of Dean without his shirts – he saw Dean shirtless in the morning and boy was it a sight worth waking up to and it definitely made his morning much more bearable.

Anyhow Castiel had been expecting Dean to question him about the tattoos soon enough since he wasn't a man of patience and virtue. When Dean hesitantly asked about them a week later, Castiel can't help but chuckle at Dean fidgeting nervously. He talked briefly about how he got his first tattoo at the age of eighteen and when Dean asked what each one of his tattoos mean, he gladly explained every one of them. Castiel was unsure if he should tell this to Dean, but he also confessed how he would tattoo their name if he found someone special. Dean didn't comment on it and Castiel was feeling let down, although there was no reason to.

Castiel caught himself daydreaming again about the night at Gabriel's house party in January when Dean and he almost kissed. He really should have kissed Dean, if he knew his thought would drift off to that night every now and then. But this small regret could be overlooked because he didn't want to jeopardize his friendship with Dean.

He was drunk then because Dean had insisted on having tequila shots before the party. Dean had said something along the lines of 'You need to loosen up a bit, Cas. It's a party, not a funeral'. Castiel let out a sigh as his motor skill wasn't working and he was fumbling with buttoning his shirts until Dean offered his help. Dean stepped into his personal space, holding the blue tie in his hand, and hummed lowly as he tied a necktie. Even after he finished tying, Dean looked at Castiel with appreciation and the sheer domestic feeling overwhelmed him. Castiel must have let his eyes linger on Dean a little bit too long since Dean went away, laughing nervously. 

The party itself wasn't too bad considering they have left the party to get a revenge on Gabriel for his prank. Dean and Castiel glued the pant legs of Gabriel together with a super glue they found in Gabriel's room. They were giggling like teenagers and they were having so much fun with their prank until they heard footsteps coming toward them.

They hid inside a closet, but things escalated quickly. Although Castiel tried to stay still, Dean suddenly stopped laughing, his breath became ragged and – was, was he smelling him? Castiel was, on the other hand, trying his best not to focus on the warmth radiating off of Dean and the unique scent of Dean beneath the layer of the tang of whiskey and shampoo fragrance.

He wasn't going to watch his cousin having sex - not only was it disturbing to pry into a sex life of your close kin but also his mind was going to a gutter, fantasizing about Dean. The fact that he was conveniently right in front of him didn't help him at all.

Dean must have been drunk as well because Dean whipped his head around, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and dared him to kiss him.

Castiel should have stopped him. It felt like all the alcohol had drained out of his system and he was suddenly more alert. But he didn't. Instead, he had placed his hand on Dean's neck and flushed his body against him. Dean wasn't showing any sign of resistance, rather he seemed to will his body to be pliant, following Castiel's movement.

Whatever moment they were having was quickly broken as soon as someone barged in on Gabriel. Gabriel and Kali hastily put on their clothes, presumably to find a more secluded place to continue their intercourse, or more likely, just find themselves a motel room. He saw confusion flicker in Dean's eyes and although he didn't want to say this he whispered, "We should get out of here before they come back." 

He quickly slipped out of the embrace and put as much distance between them as possible without being so obvious of his discomfort. After that, things were pretty normal with Dean casually flirting and getting physical with anyone who comes up to him.

"Hey, eyes on me, Clarence," Meg demanded, drawling her voice like always.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Wanna kiss me?"

"Excuse me?" Although Meg had shown interest in him, she hadn't made any advances so he was taken off guard to hear her offer.

"Come on, I know how much you want to kiss Dean. So kiss me, like you'd want to kiss him."

"And why would I do that? Actually, why would you want that?"

"To ride it out of your system, obviously. And me? I am not gonna pass the chance to finally kiss those sexy lips of yours."

Without warning, Meg planted her lips against his. Castiel froze, but he had to admit that it did ease his bottled-up frustration. Her lips were soft and it felt nice – that was about it. She smelled nothing like Dean, she didn't have green eyes like Dean. She just wasn't Dean.

The moment she pulled on his tie, the tie Dean had tied for him, Castiel snapped out of it. He pushed Meg away, gently but firm enough. Meg had simply shrugged it off and winked at him before flirting with someone else.

Castiel had rummaged through the house knocking on every single door and apologizing when interrupting unfortunate couples during their make-out session. He couldn't find him anywhere and it was about half an hour when he found Dean. He looked worse than he was thirty minutes ago and a surge of worry went through him.

Dean tried to brush him off until he noticed his tie and tried to fix it. For some reason Castiel couldn't guess, Dean acted like fixing Castiel's tie was the only thing that mattered. He tried a couple of times until he couldn't and he looked devastated as he mumbled that he'd like to go home. Castiel took him home without asking, wondering all the way why fixing his ties mattered so much.

But it was no use now – soon his sophomore years would be over and that would mean half of his college years are done. Castiel was yet to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He did meet Charlie, a bubbly tattoo parlor owner with vibrant red hair, at a café after his run. She seemed quite awestruck when she took a look at Castiel's notebook full of his original tattoo design ideas and even gave him a business card, which was now inside his wallet.

"Hey, Cas. How was the run?" Dean asked, as soon as he saw Castiel coming in.

"It was alright."

"That's good, but are you sure it's okay to run? I mean, you were sick throughout last week."

His worry was genuine and Castiel felt the corner of his lips going up.

"Dean, I am feeling better now."

"If you say so. Anything happened while you were out running? Maybe a girl asked for a number?"

Dean always seemed to know everything about Castiel. They hadn't really bothered to hide secrets from each other because they trusted each other. Castiel shouldn't be keeping the encounter with Charlie a secret, but he didn't want to tell anyone about it, not even Dean. Because if he did, he would be expected to take action about that encounter, although Dean would never pressure him into doing something he didn't want.

"No, nothing like that."

Castiel offered Dean a half-truth. Not a lie, but not the complete truth, either.

The wallet with the card from Charlie suddenly felt heavy in his sweatpants.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Castiel carefully lifted up the business card that Charlie gave him toward the ceiling. He took one last long look at it before he stood up to put the card above the shelf, where it would stay until he mustered enough courage to pay Charlie a visit. That meant a very long time since he didn’t even have the audacity to confess his feeling to Dean for a year. Castiel knew he was being a coward, but it was better than getting hurt.


End file.
